


Saccharine

by amnesiaccyborg



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: 3am fanfiction prose, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5004688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amnesiaccyborg/pseuds/amnesiaccyborg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon tastes sweet - like fruit left out too long, not quite alive but not quite dead either - but erring on the side of dead nonetheless. His mother always saved those fruits past their prime for him; there was something about the saccharine taste of an overripe strawberry, or the tangy bite of a soft orange that other people couldn't seem to understand but Kieren adored. <br/>	It was one of the things he missed, being one of the undead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saccharine

Simon tastes sweet - like fruit left out too long, not quite alive but not quite dead either - but erring on the side of dead nonetheless. His mother always saved those fruits past their prime for him; there was something about the saccharine taste of an overripe strawberry, or the tangy bite of a soft orange that other people couldn't seem to understand but Kieren adored.   
It was one of the things he missed, being one of the undead. Oh, he could live without the biscuits and his mother’s cakes (much to Jem’s concern - “Any teenage boy who doesn’t actively seek out sweets obviously has something wrong with him.”), but it was the simple things he missed: the taste of fresh bread, of cold milk on a warm afternoon, of a slightly soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich, of overripe fruit swelling with cloying juice that would stick to the roof of his mouth.   
He didn’t notice it, at first, when he kissed Simon. It was forceful and tense and Simon, who had just been staring at him with a voice full of worry, was disturbingly still before he reacted, before he kissed back just as powerfully, hands coming up to pause near Kieren’s face, hovering for a moment before gently caressing the underside of his jaw, and Kieren could feel him rise up, and the entire atmosphere changed.  
Simon was no less intense, but the sheer force that Kieren had pushed upon him had dwindled, and it left Kieren feeling raw, feeling vulnerable - with the taste of sugar in the back of his throat. When Simon’s lips finally left his own, his eyes slid open, but they flickered from Simon’s eyes to the ground.   
Simon’s hands shifted to cup the side of his face, tilting it upwards, until Kieren was forced to look back at him.   
“What happened?”  
“I - I don’t-” he drew in a shuddering breath; any semblance of surety having fled from him. “I needed to see you.”   
Simon was still looking at him with that expression, that concerned expression that he hadn’t seen from anyone in such a long time - such a long time. “How about we go sit down, and you can tell me about it, if you’d like?”  
He trusted himself with a nod and another shaky breath.   
Simon’s hands were light on his shoulders, guiding him over the couch in the main room - he could see a light under Amy’s door - the other room must be Simon’s - and he’s surprised when the weight on his shoulders increases - Simon is indicating he should sit. He’s more fidgety than he has been in a while, more anxiety flowing through him than he can remember ever since he’d come back.   
But Simon’s hands haven’t left him, are just - there, one on the back of his neck, rubbing flesh with too few nerve endings to properly appreciate it, the other tracing soothing circles on his knee. “What happened, Kieren?”  
“I - oh god, Freddie Preston missed his dose - he went rabid-” his head was spinning.  
“Breath, Kieren.”  
He forced himself to fill his lungs. “H-he nearly killed his wife, they were gonna kill him, Jesus they were gonna kill him, everyone was already safe and they were gonna kill him because he missed a shot-” his voice cut out. He took another shuddering breath. “They were gonna shoot him in the head, after they had already given him his dose. He was lying on the ground, and they were gonna shoot him, and when Gary loaded him into the truck he fucking threw him, oh Jesus…”  
Simon pulled him closer, the hand on the nape of Kieren’s neck moving down to rub large, comforting circles on his back.  
“We try so hard, Simon.” he managed. “God, we try so hard to be like them, and one of us messes up once and they’re ready to kill us.”  
“I know.” Simon says. He knows far too well the extent to which the living will go. “It isn’t right, I know.”  
And then something in Kieren snaps, and he’s drawing shuddering breath after shuddering breath in, his arms wrapping tightly around Simon, trying to draw some small comfort from the man next to him. Simon does his best to provide that comfort.   
It’s nearly five minutes before his breathing levels out to something that wouldn’t be scarily near to being classified as convulsions before he’s aware of the comforting words being whispered into his ear. He takes one more measured, even breath before he looks up, meeting Simon’s gaze.  
“Thank you.”  
“It’s no problem.”   
And there’s this honesty in his voice, in his eyes, that he doesn’t see anymore, not with his parents, not with Jem - never with Jem - but he hasn’t seen that in a while. And then he isn’t thinking about that anymore, because something inside him is shouting to strain upwards, to press his lips against those pale, dry lips above him - so he does.  
Kieren Walker prides himself on being someone who thinks his plans through before acting on them, but everyone messes up now and again.  
And Simon is still so delicate, so different from that first moment and Kieren doesn’t doubt for a moment that he won’t go there again, but he knows that this softness, this frailty is what he needs, and he knows that Simon knows that too, and he is struck by just how much this man must care for him - this man, who in all honesty, he doesn’t know particularly well, cares for him. So he sits, his arms still tightly wound around Simon’s middle, and he takes that comfort he so desperately needs.

~  
It’s nearly two hours before he extricates himself and heads home - only because he knows his mother won’t sleep until he’s back. Simon offers to walk with him, and Kieren is grateful for it, for the safety that walking so near they’re almost touching provides. He can’t feel cold anymore, or heat, for that matter, but somehow Simon still manages to fend off a chill - and for a moment, when Simon kissed his cheek goodbye, he could have sworn he felt warm.  
His mother is sitting at the table inside, and she sighs with relief when she sees him - only flinching slightly at the fact that he only has one contact in and his make up is a tad smeared. She doesn’t ask questions about where he’s been, but she asks if he’s alright, and he appreciates the sentiment. He tells her he is, and he isn’t lying, mostly. He walks up to his room quietly, and Jem peeks her head out from her half open door before taking one look at Kieren’s face and slamming it shut.  
There’s a certain acceptance that comes along with this, Kieren has realized. A certain peace that comes with the knowledge that you’ll never be accepted by them, by any of them. Not really. He knows his parents love him, he knows Jem loves him, but…  
But.  
But they still can’t look him in the eyes when he doesn’t have his contacts in, or stand to see his face without coverup. They don’t touch his skin unless there’s a layer of sweaters over top, and he wonders if this is the way it’s always going to be.  
He kicks off his shoes and covers the mirror, wipes the mousse off his face and takes out the single contact in his eye. He makes his way back to his bedroom and slips off his outer layers, shedding them as he slips beneath the covers of his bed. He wraps the duvet as tightly around himself as he can; it gives him a sense of security. Another one of his quirks, he supposes, like his love for overripe fruit. He loves small spaces - he remembers sitting in his closet with a flashlight, reading a book during a thunderstorm and feeling safe as can be tucked in a nook. There are other instances, of course, that he doesn’t like to remember quite as much as thunderstorms. The cave, for instance - or his coffin.   
Maybe it isn’t small spaces he likes, so much as the security that seems to come with them. He doesn’t like feeling trapped, just… safe.  
He sleeps fitfully.

~

The next morning, he gets up and puts in his contacts, coats his pallid skin with mousse to make it seem alive, and walks downstairs feeling less so. His mother smiles at him, she doesn’t flinch now that he looks normal, and he can’t really blame her, not really. But he had forgotten that it was Sunday, and they were having “Family Brunch” but if he wasn’t going to eat, he sure as hell wasn’t going to sit there alone.   
He made his way down to Amy’s bungalow - the walk wasn’t bad, in the daylight, really, and she lets him in with a smile, and god he loved Amy. She tells him he’s just missed “service”, and he can hear Simon finishing up whatever sermon he had prepared - and something in his chest felt tight just then.   
All of the people in the room flow out, and it’s odd, because even though he doesn’t know these people at all, he still feels more comfortable in their midst than with any of the living - he thinks it’s because none of them look at him likes he’s a monster.  
But Simon comes out too, and sees him, and smiles, and the tightness in his chest dissipates a little, until Kieren tries to broach the subject of not wearing mousse and noncompliance and suddenly Simon’s doing that thing that he does, where the only thing on his mind is religion, or politics, or whatever this is, and Kieren can’t take that any longer so he doesn’t.  
But then Simon asks what he wants, and he’s being serious, so completely, ridiculously serious, and he looks earnest, and he asks what Kieren wants, he says that he’ll do anything - anything - to give it to him, he says,

“Because there’s what I believe in, and then, there’s you.”

~

So Simon comes over for Sunday Brunch, and to be honest, Kieren isn’t sure who’s more nervous. They walk to back to his house, contacts in, coated in makeup, and he’s struck again by just how much this man must care for him. But he puts that thought in the back of his head as he kisses him, and tells him to compliment his dad’s jeans. They go inside, and his mother sees him and smiles, because look at how human he is, bringing back friends who look human as well, what a good boy.  
And everything seems okay, better than okay, to be honest, and they start eating - well, his mum and dad start eating - but Jem and Gary come in and part of Kieren knows that nothing good can come of this. He can see the fuzziness in Jem’s gaze, the slight stumble in Gary’s stride, and they’re both tipsy, if not full out drunk, and then Gary opens his mouth.  
He never liked Gary. And the longer he talked of killing, of blowing people’s heads off, the angrier Kieren got - he expected Simon to do something, he wouldn’t even blame him if he did, but Jesus he didn’t, why didn’t he but he didn’t so Kieren did.   
Kieren told a story too, but instead of the quiet audience that Gary got, his parents told him that he had crossed a line, crossed a line that Gary hadn’t crossed apparently, but damn it if he wasn’t angry, if he wasn’t allowed to be angry, so he talks about the fear, about a dark night, about crawling his way out of a coffin and being so alone, because there was no one else, but not afraid, not anymore, of how he rose from the dead and tore people apart, he talked about the hunger and the hatred and his father started yelling but he didn’t care, no, he couldn’t care, not anymore.   
So gets up and leaves, telling Simon to come along, and they go. They go upstairs, to where Kieren’s room is, and Kieren is still so angry but Simon just looks sad.  
Kieren closes the door with a slam, mostly to spite his parents, and paces from the door to the bed a few times before Simon catches hold of his shoulders and forces Kieren’s gaze up to his own.  
He doesn’t say anything - there’s nothing to say, really, but focusing on Simon helped calm him a little, and the bruising kiss he pushes to Simon’s lips helps distract him even more. They kiss until they can taste the mousse cover up on each other’s tongues, before Kieren sighs and stops and gets a towel to wipe it off with. It’s more symbolic than he intended, or, at least, it seemed that way, but he couldn’t live like this any longer. Simon’s touch was gentle, making soft, wide strokes with the towel, moving from his cheek, to his forehead, ghosting over his eyelids before under his chin.  
“All done.”  
So Kieren takes the cloth and does the same for Simon, and it does feel cleansing, in a sense, and when both of their faces are a pallid, ashy white-grey, Kieren leans forward and kisses Simon, and they don’t taste of chemicals anymore, he just tastes like sugar.  
They stay up in his room for as long as Kieren suspects Gary stayed - he took it as a sign the man was gone when Jem stomped up the stairs. As soon as her door closed, Kieren’s opened, and they made their way down the stairs and out the door - Kieren could feel his mother’s eyes on the back of his head, but he refused to turn around. 

The night air did some good at calming him, but the air of confidence hadn’t left him yet - he was bold enough to take hold of Simon’s hand and lean into his side as they walked, and Simon, as he had been for the duration of whatever it was this was, was pliant.   
When Simon opened the door, Amy was at the table twiddling her thumbs. Kieren released Simon’s hand - but it was a few seconds too late, and Amy shot them a knowing glance.   
“Glad you two are getting along.” she said with a smile.  
Kieren felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Amy, I-”  
“Don’t you dare apologize, dum-dum. I would’ve felt bad marrying My-mon instead of you anyway. And I couldn’t marry both of you. Actually, now that I think about it…” She paused for a moment, jokingly, before continuing. “Besides, I might maybe perhaps have a romantic relationship on the horizon myself.”  
Kieren hugged her - he had forgotten how much he positively adored Amy. Perfect, perfect Amy. “You are the best.”  
“You know it, BDFF!”  
And then Amy was calling for a group hug, and Simon obviously didn’t have the heart to refuse, and to be honest, it was really nice. It was really, really nice. But then Amy said something about leaving them to it, and disappeared back into her room with yet another knowing glance.   
Simon took Kieren’s hand and led him down the hall. “You’ve already seen the living room.” he said, “And Amy’s room. This one,” he paused for a moment to push open the door, “Is mine.” It was clear, Kieren would have described it as barren, but it didn’t seem that way with papers scattered across the desk, a few even on the floor.   
Kieren sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands running over the soft blanket. Simon settled next to him. It was quiet for a moment, before Simon spoke. “I didn’t think you were going to say anything during lunch.”  
“I thought you were.” Kieren retorted.  
“Did you want me to?” Simon looked mildly confused.  
Kieren made a face. “Not really, no. I was just surprised. You get so… passionate about equal rights, and Gary… Well.”  
“I told you, there’s what I believe, and then there’s you, Kieren Walker.”  
“Well I feel very flattered.” he replied.  
He heard Simon snort. “I’ll bet you do.”  
Kieren grinned, turning to him. “I don’t understand you very much, you know.”  
“Oh?”  
“Mm. I like you, but I don’t understand you.” He leaned over, the faint grin slipping from his face to be replaced with a look of contentment. He pressed their lips together, reveling in the feel of that closeness, and suddenly Simon was kissing him back, hard, and there it was, there was that force that he had been waiting for.   
Simon pushes him down into the bed, and Kieren loves it, loves how he can be so gentle and so powerful - but the Simon stops, and he just looks at Kieren.   
Kieren looks back, confused, but Simon just takes his face in his hands and and gently strokes his cheek. "You, Kieren Walker, are beautiful." His voice is low and soft, and if Kieren still had blood in his veins his face would be redder than the sugary sweet strawberries he loved so dear. "You are so, so incredible, and you don't see it."  
Kieren looked away, but Simon tilts his head up until their eyes meet again. "In both of my lives, I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you."  
And their lips meet again, softly sweet and dry in a pleasant way, and there is nowhere that Kieren would rather be, than here.  
He falls asleep at some point, when their kisses became sleepy and slow, cradled against Simon’s chest, and he feels safe, for the first time in a long time, he feels safe.


End file.
